


You Dropped the Soap

by astr0cat



Category: Everyman HYBRID
Genre: F/M, This is a tryhard crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astr0cat/pseuds/astr0cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title says it all m8</p><p>It's tryhard because it's lying to you with fancy words but the idea is shit so it's really just a fancy crackfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Dropped the Soap

Currently Habit was residing in one of the many rooms of the home he occupied, sharpening his main blade.

Purple claws shone in the dim moonlight as he lay on the plush bed, the centerpiece of the small space. He let out a few grumbles, hissing and puffing a breath of air up at his slanted, chestnut bangs.

It was a tedious task, yet one he enjoyed immensely. The act of preparing a dull blade into a finer weapon, a finer ally, was always a joyful job. Joyful because he knew it would plunge into someone's abdomen, joyful because he knew it would aid him in future torture, joyful because he knew that it would bring him a vile sense of happiness.

It was absolutely divine to bring forth the bite for the blade.

Currently you watched from a corner of the room, eyes watching ever so carefully from the darkness that shrouded you. Though the demon before you had not once gazed in your direction, you felt eyes on your back.

In your arms you held a towel and a bar of soap. You had been instructed, ordered, to hold these items until told different. Habit had the great tendency to strike fear into all without giving a definite reason, one could say it was a habit of his.

The longer you dwelled on the possibly, the more frustrated you became. It became apparent to you, or you'd like to assume so, that the fucker was just doing this in order to successfully frustrate you.

A quiet sigh came from the brunette before he set the machete onto the cotton sheets of the bed.

“Hey shitstain,” you twitched a bit at his voice, “get your fucking ass over here.” Complying to his demands, you moved from your stiff position, gliding over to him on cramped legs.

There was a small moment where the two of you shared a gaze. His filled with something related to that of mixed annoyance and amusement and yours holding something similar to terror. 

Motioning you over with the crook of a finger, he turned his gaze down, a snicker escaping his parted lips. Hesitantly you obeyed, legs trembling.

This position of yours, as a lowly servant, had originated when the bastard had possessed Evan and taken ahold of the reigns inside his mind. Upon setting his orbs on your damned soul, he had decided that he could use another slave.

Your job being similar to the Rake, you would follow his commands without a peep unless told otherwise. It was as if you were a canine, sniffing at your master’s tail and sticking glued to his trail, clinging to every wish and desire for no outcome in it for yourself. You were useless when you weren't serving him, your tasks the sole reason you continued to live. Blackmail. 

With wide eyes, you watched as his finger arose from its position in the air, coming to rest on your cheek. His gaze had turned upwards so his endless smirk was directed at you, eyes malevolent. Without warning, the sharp item trailed down the slope of your face, a trail of crimson bubbling up from the thin line and surging forward.

The pain was diminutive compared to the cowardly fear you experienced every moment he glanced in your general direction. “Piece of fucking shit…” his voice nearly a whisper, “though I must admit that the look within your ugly ass eyes is rather beautiful.” A chuckle escaped him, loud and venomous.

Shivering, you let him turn your head from side to side, fingers allowing the claws to sink in, “your body's not too bad on the eyes either I guess. Bad, but not too bad.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as the instinct to flee began consuming you, yet possessing the knowledge of the consequences that would follow suit kept you rooted to the ground. Whatever pain Habit would inflict upon you currently, would be tiny in comparison to the things he would surely commit upon the act of your feeble attempts of escape.

Not foolish enough to ever shake his grasp off and make a run for it, you kept your feet cemented to the floor, eyes closed.

A sound was emitted before you which in turn caused curiosity to bloom within you, your lids rising.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Upon regaining your sight, Habit rested just before you, face directly in front of yours. Squeaking, you took a step back, arms shaking and palms barely grasping onto the items resting within your hold.

The demon let a laugh escape the confinements of the body he resided in, eyes grinning. By the time he began to quiet, he was speaking to you, “speak, pet.”

Swallowing your scream and wrestling with the towel in your fingers, you glanced at the floor, “I-I…”

“ ‘I-I’, you what? When I said speak I meant form a proper fucking sentence, bitch.”

Bringing your eyes up to his features, you did as he said, “why must I hold these things?”

Amusement seemed to engulf Habit, his eyes twinkling and his mouth gaping in benevolent laughter, a smile painted on his face. 

Before you had a moment to recover his rumbling cackles, he brought his hand up and shoved you back, smirk still glued to his lips.

Releasing the soap from your hand and shoving your palm to the wall in an attempt at stability, you glanced up at him. 

The brunette was upon you within seconds, face still smiling as he glowered down at you.

Straightening yourself was in vain for upon doing so, the man just shoved you back against the wall before leaning down to your ear, his neck craning down in order to meet the destination. 

A chill ran up your spine as a hot breath of air danced across your nape, effectively causing the hairs on you to arise. Arousal and fear swarmed within you in a suffocating mix.

In nothing more than a whisper, he uttered out, “you dropped the soap.”


End file.
